THANKS AND THANKS LUKE 17:11-19

Dear God, we paid for all this stuff ourselves so thanks for nothing.

With that offering of a grace, cult figure Bart Simpson speaks for much of our contemporary culture. For we find so often today that our world is committed to endorsing our independence rather than our dependence on God, so much so that ‘Thankyou’ seems to be becoming an alien word.

A story is old of a woman at an airport departure lounge. Faced with a delay she sat down to read a book. After a while, a man sat down next to her. After a few minutes the woman reached down to the bag of cookies that she had bought and ate one. To her horrror, the man took one as well. And so it went on. Every time she took a cookie so did he. Not surprisingly she found herself getting ever more angry but whilst her face betrayed her rage, she never said a word. Eventually there was only one cookie left. Now to make things worse, the man beat her to it before with a smile breaking it in two, eating one half himself and giving the other half to the woman. At that moment, the man’s flight was called and so he set off, giving her one last smile. In return the woman produced her least friendly frown. With the cookie thief safely out of the way, the woman used the vacated space to stretch out - and at that moment she felt her hand brush against her unopened bag of cookies. She had been the cookie thief. The man had been generous. And now it was too late to thank him.


A missed opportunity to express gratitude can be seen in this morning’s Gospel Reading. Ten men were lepers. This meant not just that they suffered from a terrible disease which in its most extreme form as Hansen’s disease destroys the nerves in fingers and toes but that they also suffered from exclusion from society as those who were unclean. A community of need so great that distinction between Jews and Samaritans became important, led them to banded together to cry out to Jesus for help and pity. Not that this distinction is ignored by Luke. You see, the Samaritans were hardly popular amongst the Jewish community. After all, they were regarded as those who had ceased to be Jews in a meaningful way. They may have had their origins in the tribes of Israel. But after the Assyrians had overrun the North of Israel eight centuries before Christ, those citizens who were not killed or taken into permanent exile, found their cities in Samaria settled by foreigners of other faiths. Gradually the Jews and these foreigners intermingled in way that brought a racist reaction from some as well as an abhorrence that their religion had become compromised. In the years that followed, Jews and Samaritans snubbed each other and the Samaritans went so far as to set up a rival centre of worship to Jerusalem at Mount Gerazim. Even in the childhood of Jesus, the Samaritans used the remains of dead animals to desecrate the Temple in Jerusalem. And so perhaps the naming of one of the lepers in this border community as a Samaritan is not without significance.


And that significance comes out in the story of reactions to the healing of these lepers. Nine of them did precisely what Jesus told them to do. They went on their way to see the priest to get verification for their healing. They went off so that they could speedily rejoin society. But the Samaritan did something different. Having set off like the others, he turns around. Why? Because he sees in his healing the work of God and he knows that he needs to give thanks to God and praise God. For in a real sense the wholeness that was now his, is about discerning the presence of God within our lives, even in those things we consider ordinary, and that same wholeness means being grateful for the ways in which God blesses us. This is what it is to be truly human.


It is a bit like the story of the evangelist Harry Ironside who in a crowded restaurant bowed his head to pray before eating a meal. The other man at the table asked him if he had a headache. “No” replied Ironside. So the man asked him if something was wrong with his food. Ironside replied, “Ni, I was simply thanking God as I always do before I eat.” “Oh” replied the man in true Bart Simpson mode, “ you’re one of those are you? Well I want you to know that I never give thanks. I earn my money by the sweat of my brow and I don’t have to give thanks to anybody when I eat. I just start right in.” Ironside’s immortal response was, “Yes, you’re just like my dog. That’s what he does too!”


At that is a matter for Harvest. In our society of self dependence, are we becoming blind to the gifts of God, instead seeing man as the giver of all things. I like a statement by William Sloan Coffin who in America has been a powerful voice against injustices. Yet reflecting on the changing situation of his declining health, he says;

I am less intentional than attentional. I am more attentive to family and friends and to nature’s beauty. Although still outraged by callous behaviour, particularly in high places, I feel more often serene, grateful for God’s gift of life. For the compassions that fail not, I find myself saying daily to my loving Maker, ‘I can no other answer than thanks and thanks and thanks.


And that is at the heart of Harvest Thanksgiving. Too often we marginalise God in our world. Yet at Harvest we are reminded that to be truly human we need to say Thanks and Thanks and Thanks. And then seeing how we are blessed by the generous gifts of God to be like the Samaritan to use the wholeness God gives us to work for justice and the fair use of the resources of our world.


But may we do so with appreciation. A man was once chased by a tiger. He ran and ran until he came to a sheer cliff. As the tiger neared him, he grabbed a rope hanging over the cliff and climbed out of the tiger’s reach. Looking up, he saw the tiger above just longing to eat him. Below he saw a drop of some 500 feet. What could he do. Just then he saw a rare sight, a bright red strawberry growing out on the side of the cliff. He reached out his hand grabbed the strawberry and popped it into his mouth. So good was it’s taste that he exclaimed, “That was the best strawberry I have ever tasted.”


In a dire predicament he appreciated something that was good. We may not be chased by tigers but we too need to appreciate the good gifts that we so often take for granted and whilst not minimising all that we owe to human graft, be grateful to the God who is at the heart of all the good things we enjoy, and who continues to bless us from the generous heart of Divine love.

This sermon was preached at Gammaton Harvest Festival on September 11th 2005

A Bush and a Cross Exodus 3:1-15; Matt 16:21-28

I like the story of President George W. Bush walking through an airport when he meets an elderly man with a long beard, wearing robes and sandals and carrying in his arms two tablets of stone. Excitedly, Bush runs up to the old man and asks;

"Sir, are you Moses?"

The man carries on walking so Bush chases after him, once more asking;

"Sir, are you Moses?"

Still the man carries on walking without responding to the question. But persistently, Bush carries on his pursuit, saying to the old man;

"I don’t know if you are Moses or not, but if you are Moses, you aren’t exactly friendly."

At this the old man stops and looks Bush in the eye before responding;

"Of course I am Moses, but you and I both know that the last time I talked to a Bush I spent 40 years wandering around in the wilderness."

Yes indeed. The calling of Moses through the Burning Bush was something that changed the life of Moses. Furthermore, the calling of Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt and on a journey to become God’s people was peculiar in the extreme. For Moses was about as suited to such leadership as perhaps today, Simon Cowell would be suited to opening up a Charm School.

There is an old story of a church looking for a new pastor. The Selection Committee had spent hours one night looking for the right person and were ready to give up when they came upon this letter of introduction from a candidate;

"To the Ministerial Nominating Committee. It is my understanding that you are in the process of searching for a new pastor, and I would like to apply for the position. I wish I could say that I am a terrific preacher, but I can’t - actually, I stutter when I speak. I wish I could say that I have an impressive educational background, but I can’t - no college or seminary, just the school of “Hard knocks.” I wish I could say that I bring a wealth of experience to the job, but I can’t - I have never been a pastor before ( unless you count the flock of sheep I have been shepherding). I wish I could say I have wonderful pastoral skills, but I can’t - sometimes I lose my temper and have been known to get violent when upset. Once I even killed somebody, but gracious folks that you are, I am sure that you wouldn’t hold that against me. I know that churches these days want young ministers to attract young members, and I wish that I could say that I am young, but I can’t - actually, I am almost 80,,, but I still feel young. With all that which might go against me, why am I applying for your position? Simple. One afternoon recently, the voice of God spoke to me and said I had been chosen to lead. I admit, I was a bit reluctant at first, but… well here I am. O look forward to hearing from you and to leading you into an exciting new future. Yours sincerely,"

The Selection Committee looked at each other aghast. The chairperson asked, “Well what do you think?” the question seemed totally unnecessary. A stuttering, uneducated, inexperienced, arrogant, old, clearly neurotic ex - murderer as their pastor? The man must be crazy. The Chairperson eyed each of the committee before she added, “It is signed Moses.”

Certainly Moses was an unlikely choice to be God’s leader in the epic that was about to unfold. Everything about him was wrong. That is except for the fact that he was able to sense the presence of God in a way that few others would have. In a burning bush, he sensed the presence of God and dared to realise that he was on Holy ground. It’s a bit like Elizabeth Barrett Browning puts it in her poem, "Aurora Leigh";

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries.

And that is the big question. Do we like Moses see God’s presence in our world or are we oblivious to the presence of God?

Now the important thing about God’s call to Moses through the burning bush, is that it is a call for Moses to be involved in God’s work of liberation. At this time, the Hebrews are like many a minority community in the world since, the victims of oppression. They are treated as slaves, as lesser people by the power that is Egypt. Their contribution to that society just generations before is as it were airbrushed out of history. Their situation had about it a hopelessness that has its parallels in the position of non European races in South Africa not so long ago. Like them they had little reason to expect things to change. But in the story of Moses, we see the God who is on the side of the victims of injustice and who demands a change of perspective and a change of situation. We see in this story no quiet acceptance of injustice but instead a refrain that breaks forth time and time again with ever increasing crescendo;

Let my people go!

And in the story of Moses and the Exodus, we see the giant of oppressive power brought to its very knees. And it is no accident that where people are deprived a fair deal in life, this story is recalled as a message of hope. This is particularly true in the context of South America where the extremes of poverty and ostentatious wealth live in close proximity with the position of the powerful maintained by death squads and misuse of state power. For to the communities marked by liberation theology, this story says that God is to be found as present in the struggle against injustice and cruelty and part of our path of discipleship is to cooperate with this Divine work of liberation.

And yet, I cannot help but be uncomfortable with some of the way in which the story later pans out. We later hear of plagues which wreak havoc, of the horror of the deaths of the first born sons of the Egyptians and the drowning of many of their conscript army. I find myself shuddering at the thought that God’s liberation may be for one people and not for another. I struggle with the seeming indifference of the Biblical accounts to the victims who happen to be Egyptian. And perhaps my reason is not just that it seems unfair for collective guilt to have been imposed in the past. For I think part of my unease is contemporary. I am uncomfortable when collective guilt is directed against a people on mass. After all did we not see something of that in the video of the London suicide bomber who was prepared to condemn a whole people for what he saw as wrongs perpetuated in our names even if we were opposed to those actions.

Too often in history, it seems to me that wrongs have been righted by means that have produced their own wrongs. And circles of ever increasing hatred and violence are the result. Yes, the Scriptures commit us to opposing injustice but surely we are not called to that damnable lie that ends necessarily justify the means.

And it is here that our Gospel Reading fits in. Peter has not long before acclaimed Jesus as “Messiah.” He has seen Jesus as the one who will bring victory to his people over those who have imposed on it the long night of wrong. But he has failed to understand the ways of God in bringing the triumph of right. He still sees a victory won by the killing and destruction of enemies. No wonder he is unable to understand the Kingship of Jesus where the weapons of power will be love and forgiveness. No wonder he is unable to understand a Jesus whose victory will be seen not in killing others but in being killed himself. But surprising as it is to him, his whole understanding of God has to undergo a mega transformation.

Soon he will learn the power of self giving. Soon he will see in the cross the way of God bringing salvation to the world. For in the Cross is God in Christ offering a sufficient sacrifice that draws us away from demanding further shedding of blood. The need for vengeance is gone as is the need to punish ourselves as so many do. The Cross proclaims with power that Christ has taken on himself all the wrongs and sufferings of the world and no longs to share his risen life with each and every one of us. For to him, we are all special and valuable.

So this morning we meet the risen Christ afresh at the Table. And then we go into the world. And as we go into the world, we go seeking the sensitivity to the presence of Christ that was Moses’, the willingness to serve God despite our limitations which took some time for Moses to reach, the passion to oppose injustice and all that dehumanises which God revealed to be the Divine way to Moses, and finally with the appreciation that in all things we need to be guided by the way of Jesus who values and loves even those whose humanity we too often deny.


This sermon was preached in Bideford on September 4th at a Communion Service